


Purrfect Boy

by avianbrother



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Biting, Catboy Dante, Devil Trigger (Devil May Cry), Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hybrids, Knotting, Mild Blood, Possessive Behavior, Scent Kink, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:02:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26066935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avianbrother/pseuds/avianbrother
Summary: Dante is a simple guy with simple needs: kill demons, eat pizza, get head scratches. Oh, and fucking you into next week, of course.
Relationships: Dante (Devil May Cry)/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 251





	1. Honey, I'm Home

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [lololashk](https://twitter.com/lololashk) and their amazing [catboy Dante](https://twitter.com/lololashk/status/1171620103596793856?s=19)

With Dante, it’s hard to tell where the cat ends and the demon begins. He told you once that most demons weren’t much different from animals; they liked to fight and fuck, and tussle over territory. Dante is pretty tame in comparison, spending most of his free time lazing about like a contented pet, sprawling across your lap in a silent plea for ear scritches and belly rubs.

It makes it all the more intense when his inner predator does come out.

You know it’s gonna be one of those times when he comes back from a job, smelling of blood as his tail swishes and his eyes are glowing slits. You look up from your magazine as he strides in and tosses a bag full of shiny bits of horn and crystalized demon parts on his desk along with the day’s payment. When you first started dating, he would drag his more impressive kills home to lay at your feet, proof that he was a good hunter. You quickly broke him of that, and settled for “trinkets,” as he called them.

Dante is agitated, still riding that post-job high. Blood coats his clawed hands—he makes sure to lock eyes with you as he laps it up, sending shivers down your spine. You toss aside your magazine and beckon for him, patting the spot beside you on the couch. His ears twitch, and he stares at you for a moment before slinking over like the good boy he is. He sheds his filthy coat and nuzzles your hair as he settles next to you.

“How was it?” you ask, brushing hair from his face and stroking that spot he likes on his neck. His eyes flutter shut and he sighs, leaning into your touch.

“Good,” he says absently, “just fine.”

It’s normal for him to come back like this from a long or particularly exciting hunt. Sometimes he winds down with a shower and grooming, maybe some pizza. Most days you just fuck. Something about it makes him needy and protective, makes him want to assert his claim. Not that you mind.

A low purr starts in his chest and he goes from nuzzling and scenting you to nipping at the mating bite on your neck. A quick glance tells you he’s already hard. You kiss his cheek and grab him by the scruff to pull him away, earning you a desperate whine.

“I’ll meet you in bed after you wash up,” you say.

“But—”

You put a finger to his lips. “No buts. Just wash your hands and rinse yourself off, okay?”

He rolls his eyes but obeys, making his way to the bathroom. “No point since we’re gonna get dirty again,” he calls back, dismissively flicking his tail. You wait until he shuts the door and you hear water running before you head upstairs.

The bedroom is just as much yours as it is his. Mostly on accident. Dante has a habit of taking your things—blankets, clothes, even lotion—so he can comfort himself with your scent. You strip and add it to the impromptu “nest” he built (you really need to do the laundry soon), then get comfy in bed. It’s not long before he finishes showering and comes to join you, eyes shining when he sees you naked and waiting for him.

Crawling onto the bed, he looks every bit the feral beast he is. He presses a hand to your chest, gently pinning you.

“Claws in,” you remind him. He hums and licks a stripe along your pulse point.

“I know. I’ll be good,” he promises. He always is.

Dante ruts against you; he never bothered with a towel, so you feel the hot press of his cock when it brushes your pussy. You tilt your head, baring your neck completely for him to lavish as he pleases. Taking advantage of your generosity, he sucks and bites hard enough to almost draw blood but not quite. You wrap your legs around his waist and arch your back, trying to bring him closer. He growls in warning.

“Keep doing that and I might just skip the foreplay, sweetheart.”

You grip his hair tightly in one hand and pull, making him hiss. You use the distraction to roll him onto his back. Wiggling on his cock in triumph, you give him a wink.

“I think I can handle it.”

Orange light glows in his irises. He fists the sheets and rolls his hips, aching to be inside you already. Any patience he has is barely holding together. You cradle his face and with a tender kiss, you tell him, “Go ahead and trigger, babe.”

Usually, his trigger comes in a blinding flash. This time it ripples across his body as he shudders, eyes blown wide. A thin layer of soft fur spreads along his arms, down his muscular chest and legs. It’s silky and white like his ears. Horns sprout from his head while armored plates poke out from his back and other spots. He’s beautiful, your hybrid.

Like this, his purr is a deeper, more rumbly sound. You can feel the vibrations travel through you. Fangs peek out as he smiles, his tail loosely wrapping around your leg. It tugs you forward, reminding you of his need. Dante’s triggered cock is thick and veiny, with ridges along the shaft. Pre-cum leaks from the tip, and you decide you’re happy with skipping foreplay today.

You sink down slowly, savoring the pleasurable burn as he stretches you open. Neither of you can hold back your moans, his coming out in a breathy rasp. His hands rest on your hips, claws pricking lightly. Every time you pull yourself up and drop back down, the ridges brush against your sweet spot. It takes every ounce of willpower to keep your legs from giving out. Dante catches on and thrusts up to meet you, helping you bounce on his cock. You brace yourself on his chest—seriously, this guy has the nicest tits a man could have—and enjoy the ride, letting him take control.

After a while, he brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles while he fucks you with abandon. You squirm, thighs clenching around him as he brings you to the edge. The feel of him inside you, every ridge and bump, the rumbling purr that seems to vibrate your very bones, the stimulation on your clit—it’s all too much. You can’t think, can’t catch your breath as you whimper and plead because it’s too much _too muchtoomuchdon’tstop—_

You cum with a broken cry and he fucks you through it, licking his lips when you squirt and inhaling the smell of your pleasure. His tail rubs soothingly, giving you something to focus on besides the oversensitivity while he climbs towards his own climax. He huffs and growls as he gets closer, claws digging in almost to the point of pain.

Finally, he snaps, burying to the hilt and keeping you held down as he fills you with his seed. Moans escape you at the wonderful warm feeling and the way he twitches inside you. But it’s not over. Up next is your favorite part.

The knot at the base of his cock swells, stretching your entrance that much more as it plugs his cum inside you. Collapsing against his chest with a contented sigh, you let yourself fall limp in his arms. Dante rubs your back, chirruping softly.

“That good, huh?” he chuckles. You frown, yanking on his tail as payback, but all it does is make him shiver and his cock twitch.

“Jerk,” you mumble into his hairy pecs. “Never should’ve fucked you.”

“Too late now,” he says, grinning toothily. “You’re stuck with me for the next, mmm, thirty minutes or so.”

Despite being a pain in your ass, you can’t help but affectionately scritch his chin and behind his ears, smiling as his eyes close and he purrs like a motorboat, tail swishing happily.


	2. Laundry Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laundry is a cat magnet whether it's clean or dirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this is now a series of one shots, I plan on adding more as ideas come.

"Dante. Move."

"Mmm, nah," he says, sprawled across his nest of clothes and blankets with his eyes closed. He yawns and stretches, wiggling to get comfy. It's past noon and he's been there for over an hour. Lazy boy. It wouldn't be a problem if it wasn't laundry day. You grab onto a stray shirt sleeve and pull, but it's pinned under his weight. You sigh.

"Dante, I need to wash my clothes."

"Why?"

"Or else I won't have anything to wear."

He peels one eye open, lips curling into a smirk. "And? You say that like it's a bad thing."

You wrinkle your nose in frustration and huff. Why does he have to be so difficult? You’re half-tempted to scruff him and drag him out like a misbehaving kitten, but knowing him, he’d probably enjoy it. Or maybe dump a bucket of soapy water on his lazy, stinky ass. But then you’d have to carry all the wet clothes downstairs.

A few more seconds of watching him revel in his “I do what I want and there’s nothing you can do about it” mood, and you get an idea.

You shrug. “If that’s how you’re going to be, I guess I’ll just have to go out naked.” His eyes snap open and his fur bristles. You lock eyes with him, giving your own sly smile as you lean in.

“I’ll prance around naked in public,” you continue, pouring on the drama as you lower your voice to whisper in his twitching ears, “where all the other guys can see. Maybe catch another cat’s attention.” His tail swishes in agitation—you’re treading dangerous ground.

“Your kind like fighting over territory, don’t they? I won’t have anything to hide your mark and maybe they’ll try to leave some of their own—"

He rises in a flash, slitted pupils staring into you as he grips you by the neck just tight enough to make you lightheaded and giddy. “Try it and I’ll tear their throats out,” he growls, ears flattening back. All you do is chuckle and reach to scratch him in that spot he loves behinds his ears then down along his chin. His growls falter before petering off into a purr, eyes fluttering shut as he melts under your touch.

Fierce, deadly devil turned to putty in your hands.

“Then how about…” Your hand slips away, making him pout. “You let me do my laundry, you big dingus.”

It takes a moment for him to fully process what’s happening, but once he does, he glares weakly, flicks his tail like he doesn’t care you bamboozled him by pushing his buttons. “I love you but you’re a real bitch sometimes, you know that?”

You scoff. “Yeah and I’m still here, so joke’s on you. So are you gonna let me do laundry or not?”

He sighs dramatically, pretends to think about. “I guess so. But first…” You see a peek of fang before he scoops you up, digging his teeth into the mating bite to freshen the mark. He does it longer than normal, and eventually you let out an “ _ow_ ” and squirm in his grasp. Afterwards he plops you on your feet.

“ _That_ was for playing the jealousy card,” he says before moving out of your way. You roll your eyes and start gathering the pile into laundry baskets.

“I wouldn’t have to if you would just behave in the first place.” Dante mutters something under his breath and sheepishly scratches his neck because he knows you're right but…well, you didn’t hear it from him.

He stretches and crackles his joints while he waits on the sidelines. Once you have everything gathered, you grab a basket and tromp down to the washer and dryer in the basement. He obediently follows after—it’s not like he has anything better to do—not so subtly watching you set the machine like he does every time. He’d said plenty of times that you did laundry better, something about how you magically get all the stray white hairs out. He does it the exact same way you do yet it comes out even furrier than before.

(Right now your money is on the machines being possessed and having a grudge against him. He’s starting to think you’re right.)

Before you start it, you stick out your hand expectantly.

“What?” he asks. You give him a look.

“Give me my panties.”

He looks away, trying to seem nonchalant as he digs a pair of panties out of his pockets then passes them over.

“Don’t know how those got in there.”

“Of course not.”

“Complete mystery.”

“Yep.”

You toss them in, start the washer, then head back up as he trails along. He manages to slip his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder.

“You know, we have an hour before you have to do the next one…” His tail twines around your leg and he nibbles at the fresh bite. Despite it all, you smile, melting into him.

“What did you have in mind?”

***

Later that day, after all the laundry has been washed and set on the bed to be folded, you come back to find it in a rumpled mess, with tiny clumps of white fur all over.

“ ** _Dante!_** ”


	3. For All to See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to mark your territory when those marks always fade

You thought it would be a good idea to go out for the night, go to a bar to unwind with a few drinks and shoot pool with someone besides yourselves. Socialize like human beings. It took thirty minutes for you to regret the decision.

When you first started getting involved with Dante, you were given a crash course on cat hybrid social skills and biology. Most of it didn’t phase you because, well, you already liked cats in general, and you were also a freak in the sheets. Knotting? Scratching? Sign you the fuck up. One thing in particular is that hybrids, and demons, like to mark their mates with bites. Like a big old neon sign saying “Taken, off limits.” While some took it as a challenge, hybrids respected marks and could tell by scent who belonged to who. Dante always kept your mark fresh.

But you couldn’t do the same for him.

That’s the downside to demon healing. Bite him, stab him, shoot him—it’ll never scar or leave a mark.

All it takes is for you to leave to use the bathroom, and by the time you come back there’s already some horny fucking cat practically undressing him with their eyes, crowding against him and sitting in _your_ empty seat.

You’re not the jealous type. This isn’t the first time this has happened and it won’t be the last, you remind yourself. Saying that just makes it feel worse. You can’t tell if the cat is a guy or a girl from where you are, but you can see how their tail swishes with interest, and they lean in too close for your comfort. Dante, to his credit, looks more bored than anything else. That isn’t stopping them.

The hybrid gestures to someone in the crowd and another hybrid comes slinking over, flanking Dante’s other side and not-so-subtly looking him up and down.

That’s enough, you decide. Time to nip this in the bud before they try sinking their claws in—figuratively or literally. You weave your way through the crowd and get close enough you can hear them—

“Come on, stop jerking us around, you’re obviously single.”

You freeze. It feels like they’re talking to you but no, they haven’t taken their eyes off Dante for a single moment.

“Yeah,” chimes in the other hybrid, wrapping their tail around _your_ boyfriend’s leg. “What do you say? Wanna come with us and give us a taste of that knot? Big guy like you has plenty to go around~”

You’re gonna be sick. They’re clinging to him and you just know they’re purring as they huddle close and try to fondle him. It doesn’t matter what he says next, doesn’t matter that he’s shrugging them off and makes eye contact with you as he notices your approach because it _hurts_. Even as he starts to get up and you can hear the pair whine, you turn and march out the door because you need to leave. You’ve got to escape this place because everything is too damn hot and starting to cage you in.

You bust through the doors and keep walking, keep moving since it’s the only thing your body can think to do.

“Babe!”

The voice registers in the back of your mind. Your legs are on autopilot.

“Babe! Come on, will you just—” Something grabs you by the shoulder.

“Stop already!”

Dante wheels you around, hauling you into an alley to press you against a wall. He’s panting, brows furrowed in worry. Your face is on fire and it’s hard to breathe, but you don’t realize you’re crying until his thumb grazes your cheek, wiping away your tears.

“Talk to me,” he says, voice tight as he presses his forehead to yours. The dam breaks and you start bawling. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, letting you inhale his comforting musky scent and wipe your tears on his shirt.

“It’s not _fair_ ,” you sob.

“What isn’t?” He lifts your chin with a clawed finger, the gentle rumble of his purr soothing your pain a little.

“I can’t mark you.” The answer makes him frown. “Other hybrids, they just...just...throw themselves all over you! And I can’t do anything about it, I can’t bite you and mark you like a real mate.”

His ears fold back, and you can practically see him bristle. “ _Real_ mate?”

You fall silent save for shaky sobs. His hand trails from your chin down to your throat, claws brushing against your mark. It’s a warning, and you pull yourself together enough to stop shaking and submit. He rubs his thumb in soothing circles, waiting for you to meet his gaze. Once you do, he finally lets go.

“Now then…I’m going to take you home, and you’re going to do exactly what I say. You got that, kitten?”

The pet name makes you shiver. You nod in understanding and he scoops you into his arms, giving you a quick peck on the forehead before he triggers his wings. They snap open and then the two of you are rocketing into the air. You bury your face in his shoulder away from the wind.

It doesn’t take long to reach the shop. He kicks the door open and shut behind him and practically throws you onto the couch. His wings fizzle away but his eyes glint in the low light. It’s bewitching, terrifying. He stalks towards you until he’s standing between your legs. You gulp, trying to think of something to say but your mouth has gone dry and all you can think of is how deadly he looks.

He tilts his head, a lazy smile stretching across his lips as he slowly starts to undress. You follow his movements, watching as he slips off his jacket and then pulls off his shirt. He undoes the buckle and top of his pants to relieve the pressure on his cock but leaves it at that. He leans over you, caging you in with his arms.

“Kitten…”

You snap out of your daze. Your pulse is pounding in your ears and you’re frightened and excited at the same time. Clawed hands wind through your hair.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?” he asks. You nod. He bares his neck and tugs on your hair until you rise, guiding your face into the crook of his neck. “Now— _bite_.”

You want to say something, call him on this bullshit because you’ll never be able to mark him no matter how hard you try, yet you can’t. Something about the command resonates in you, hits at this primal, aching desire that you have to obey or else you’ll shatter. It runs deeper than the purring and scenting and knotting and all the other habits that weave the two of you together, unbreakable and fierce. Whether it’s the cat or the devil in him that calls to you, you answer with teeth and pure love.

You suck and bite like you’re leaving a hickey, laving your tongue over the flesh in reverence. Dante lets you keep at it for a moment before he tires of it, giving you a gentle shake.

“Harder.”

You brace your hands on his shoulders and sink your teeth in as hard as you can, like your life is on the line. Your eyes screw shut and you focus on simply obeying, nails digging in as you clench. He growls lowly, lifting you up and suddenly you’re being slammed against the brick. You let out a startled sound, mouth popping off. He snarls, fisting your hair in one hand.

“Fucking _mark me!_ ”

Are you going crazy or can you taste his pulse?

You taste blood. For a split second you’re surprised you broke through this devil’s skin before you remember your mission and bear down twice as hard. You don’t feel human anymore, like nothing else exists except a feral need to mark and claim and the taste of iron. Then his purr vibrates through you, calm and assuring.

“That’s it, sweetheart. I’m all yours.” he coos as he pets your hair.

Time loses meaning until you finally come up for air, jaw sore and an odd taste in your mouth. Dante smiles, fangs poking out as he wipes your face, a splotch of red smearing on his fingers. You take a deep breath and exhale shakily. Oh, you’re crying again. He kisses your cheek, and you can’t help but smile even as you watch the flesh around his neck heal over. Dante pulls back to look at you, then takes your hand and places it over his heart.

“I might not have your mark, but this? This is yours. And if you ever feel like that’s not enough and you want to take a chunk out of something, well—” he shrugs, “all you have to do is ask.”

You lick your lips, feeling the warmth beneath your fingers. You lock eyes with each other, and he grins as you drag your nails down his chest.

“Mine.”

Neither of you need to say anything more. He shreds your clothes like tissue paper, and for once you can’t complain. You tease his cock and he shivers, eyes aglow as he lines you up and fills you in a single thrust. It burns as he stretches you open but you love it, squirming in his grasp and whining until he nips at your neck to tell you he’s in charge. He bounces you on his cock, fucks you into the wall so hard you should break but you’re his mate, his love.

When he triggers it feels like you’ll be split apart, ridges pressing against your walls and making your eyes roll back into your skull. His wings curl protectively around you, cushioning your back. There’s no way you can draw blood from his triggered form, but that doesn’t stop you from biting and scratching like his feisty little kitten.

It’s sinful how easily he hits your sweet spot, how quickly he makes you come apart without touching your clit.

“Good girl, cum on my— _ngh_ —fucking dick.”

He presses you into the wall, grinding in a way that makes his plated skin rub along your pussy. You cry at the stimulation. The bastard just grins and does it over and over, lovingly torturing you until you climax. Then he picks up the speed, drawing another out of you and turning you into an overstimulated wreck. Your slick trails down your thighs and his cock—you’re seeing stars and all you can do is hold on while he uses you.

Only you get to have this, only you get to know this side of him.

A clawed thumb rubs circles around your clit and you _sob_ , but it’s worth it because this hybrid is yours and no one else’s. Each thrust and swirl of his digit is an electric shock. “ _Please please please_ ,” you beg, though you don’t know whether you’re telling him to stop or keep going.

Dante cums with a roar, flooding you with his seed and plugging you up with his knot. You close your eyes, panting from the heat rolling off him. It’s quiet for a while, only the huff of his breathing.

Then you feel his cock stir and he nuzzles your hair.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

***

Dante rarely does gifts. When he offers you the box, you wrack your brain trying to remember if there’s some special occasion you missed. He sighs at your confusion and nudges you.

“Stop thinking too much and open it already,” he says.

You open it.

“It’s…” Words escape you as you hold up the collar. It’s made with dark, soft leather that feels sturdy when you give an experimental tug. On the front is a simple silver tag etched with your name.

Dante kneels in front of you, baring his neck. “Well? Let’s see how it looks.”

Your hands shake as you slip it on and fasten it. The collar compliments his outfit, and your heart clenches when the tag glints in the light.

“What do you think?” he asks, preening. You smile and scratch him behind the ears.

“It’s perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my stuff, leave a tip at my [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/avianbrother)


End file.
